Culture, Context and Chaos

My daddy was a horse trader. He knowed horse trading better than anyone. I listen intently as the man begins to tell his story. It is Thursday night at the Beckley Moose Lodge. Folks are pulling out their billfolds to buy raffle tickets by the dozens. I am enjoying my plate of cabbage rolls and cobbler, and I need to order another beer. Randy was doing all the talking, and I knew this was a conversation I needed to remember. My days have become a patchwork Continue reading